it was getting into winter, temperatures getting colder, a frost glittering over surfaces in the mornings, occasional snow, bare trees..and your husband John using you as a personal hot water bottle, always having an arm around you, a hand on your stomach, or on your back. Or keeping you cuddled up with him in the mornings

now, his legs held you in place, his freezing hands trailing gently up and down your back on a cold Sunday morning, as he sleepily murmured about how stunning he thought you were. ”and yer hairs always sae soft.. and ye are always warm. Sae warm M'eudail..” he said with a deep inhale, breathing on your scent as hid hands continued trailing up and down your back, as you attempted to untangle yourself from his grasp.. and unsurprisingly he wasn’t letting you go.